Page 4 of Letter for Two (Sweet Treat Novellas #5)

T he next afternoon, Ethan made himself a sandwich and sat at the table on the porch. Fall was the best time of year in Phoenix. The days were finally cool enough to sit outside in the shade. The nights were perfect.

Mrs. Garcia walked past with her daughter. Ethan waved to them.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” Mrs. Garcias called out to him.

“Perfect.”

She was the neighborhood grandmother and treated everyone like her grandchildren.

She had to be in her mid-eighties. Her daughter had moved back from Detroit a couple of years earlier to help take care of her.

From what Ethan had learned over the years, the Garcia family had been in Phoenix before Phoenix even existed.

The ladies came slowly up the walk. Ethan got out of his chair and offered it and the other patio chair to them. He took a seat on the front steps.

“Any luck with that pretty friend of yours?” Mrs. Garcia was well aware of his interest in Sophia— this wasn’t the first visit they’d had on the front porch.

“I think so,” he said. “We’ve had dinner together the last two nights.”

Mrs. Garcia nodded her approval. “But have you kissed her yet?”

Mrs. Garcia’s daughter gave her mother a scolding look, but Ethan couldn’t take offense.

“I’m working up to that. I don’t even know if she’s into me yet.”

“Kiss her good, and you’ll find out soon enough.” Mrs. Garcia looked absolutely convinced of her strategy. Ethan, however, was certain it wasn’t the best.

“Anything interesting happen lately?” Mrs. Garcia’s daughter asked. Ethan realized he didn’t know her actual name. Everyone called her “Mrs. Garcia’s daughter.”

“Sophia and I got a letter,” he said. “To this address, without apartment A or B, addressed to someone named Eleanor. We couldn’t make out the last name or the return address. The postmark is from 1966. We’ve been trying to figure out who she was and if there’s any way to get it to her.”

“’66?” Mrs. Garcia’s daughter repeated. “I was a toddler, so I’m not much help.”

“The Bartletts lived here in ’66.” Mrs. Garcia’s mind was sharp as ever.

Why hadn’t he thought to ask her? She’d lived in the same house since the late 1950s. “Was there an Eleanor Bartlett?”

Mrs. Garcia thought for a moment. “Caroline, Norma, and... Delores. Those were all the girls in the family. No Eleanor.”

Ethan leaned back against the railing. If Mrs. Garcia didn’t know of an Eleanor living at their house in 1966, maybe they’d never find her.

“Were there any Eleanors on the street? Maybe the envelope was addressed wrong.”

But Mrs. Garcia was quick to shake her head. “I can’t think of any.”

“I’m friends with Norma Bartlett on Facebook,” Mrs. Garcia’s daughter said.

Both Ethan and Mrs. Garcia stared at her for a minute.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m hip to social media.”

Ethan had a momentary flashback to his childhood years of using terms like hip to and square .

"And, yes, I know Facebook is the social media for 'old people,'" Mrs. Garcia's daughter said with a little laugh. “I’ll ask Norma if she has any idea who this Eleanor might have been.”

“Thanks,” Ethan said. “We’d appreciate it. We’ve hit a bunch of dead ends.”

“Why don’t the two of you come over for dinner tonight?” Mrs. Garcia said. “We’ll make enchiladas.”

Ethan was game, but he didn’t know what Sophia’s plans were. “I’ll ask her when she gets home.”

“Do.” Mrs. Garcia wiggled her white eyebrows.

Ethan couldn’t help laughing.

***

“Enchiladas. Mmm.”

Sophia walked at Ethan’s side down the street toward Mrs. Garcia’s house. She had agreed to their dinner appointment without hesitation. Ethan hoped the promise of his company was as much a part of her motivation as Mrs. Garcia’s enchiladas.

“Do you think she’ll make tamales at Christmas again this year?” Sophia asked. “I was the most popular person in the office last December when I brought them in.”

“I convinced one of my colleagues to switch shifts with me so I could have a five-day weekend thanks to Mrs. Garcia’s tamales,” Ethan said. “They’re worth their weight in gold.”

“Just don’t tell her that,” Sophia said, a twinkle in her eyes. “She’ll start charging us their weight in gold.”

Ethan had the strongest urge to hold her hand. He had to tuck his hands into his jeans pockets to keep from acting on it. He’d made progress with their sort-of relationship, but he didn’t think he’d reached that point yet.

Mrs. Garcia’s daughter let them in. The house smelled amazing. Ethan’s stomach growled loudly, earning him a shoulder push from Sophia.

“It’s not my fault,” Ethan said. “I missed breakfast.”

“You probably slept through breakfast. You were pretty wiped out last night.” She didn’t seem embarrassed or annoyed by it.

“I feel like an idiot. You feed me dinner then I crash on your couch.”

She waved that off. “It’s not like you’re a total stranger.”

Mrs. Garcia hugged them both and welcomed them. They took seats next to each other at the table. The dinner was every bit as mouthwatering as Ethan knew it would be. And Mrs. Garcia and her daughter were every bit as matchmaking minded as he feared they would be.

When he filled Sophia’s cup with water, Mrs. Garcia commented on how sweet it was of him.

When Sophia passed the salsa without him having to ask, Mrs. Garcia’s daughter wondered out loud when the two of them had come to know each other so well.

They helped clear the table, and Mrs. Garcia declared they were “such a great team.”

Sophia’s cheeks pinked up. Was she embarrassed?

Or was she blushing because she was interested in him but hadn’t admitted it yet?

Either way, he wasn’t going to let her face the teasing alone.

He set his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t pull away.

Not even a little. He might have been deluding himself, but Ethan thought she even leaned a little closer.

For just a moment, his breath caught too much to talk. But he found his voice. “The two of you better be nice to Sophia,” he said to the meddling women. “She’ll give your computers a virus.”

Mrs. Garcia shrugged like it didn’t matter at all.

“Speaking of computers,” Mrs. Garcia’s daughter said, “I went on Facebook today and left a message for my friend Norma.”

Sophia turned to look at him. He still stood with his arm around her shoulders, which put them nearly nose to nose. He had to think hard to keep breathing.

“Norma is the friend who used to live in our house, right?” she asked.

He nodded. Breathe. He liked that she called it their house.

“Come on into the living room, you two,” Mrs. Garcia’s daughter said. “I’ll read you what she said.”

As they followed, Ethan let his hand drop from her shoulder to her back, leading her along beside him. She didn’t object to the touch. She didn’t pull away.

“Do you know what Mrs. Garcia’s daughter’s name is?” Ethan whispered directly into Sophia’s ear. Breathe, he reminded himself again.

“Everyone’s always called her ‘Mrs. Garcia’s daughter,’” Sophia whispered back. “I think that may be her legal name.”

They settled onto the loveseat, which was conveniently smaller than a sofa. Ethan had the perfect excuse to sit very close to Sophia. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought she sat little closer than necessary.

Mrs. Garcia’s daughter sat at the desktop in the corner and put on a pair of reading glasses. “Here it is. Norma thinks her aunt Ellie lived with them for about a year while her husband was fighting in Vietnam. She’s going to check with a cousin of hers and find out.”

“‘Ellie’?” Sophia repeated. “Could that be short for Eleanor?”

Mrs. Garcia’s daughter looked over her spectacles at them. “I’d say so. I asked about any Eleanors at their house, and she thought of her aunt right off.”

Sophia looked up at Ethan, excitement twinkling in her beautiful brown eyes. “This could be it. We might have solved the mystery.”

“Sounds like it.” He tentatively set his arm around her again. She leaned against him.

Breathe. Breathe.

“Will you let us know what Norma hears from her cousin?” Sophia asked Mrs. Garcia’s daughter.

“Of course.”

They spent the rest of the evening comfortably beside each other on the love seat. She stayed there with his arm around her shoulder while they talked to their hosts. Ethan’s heart pounded so hard, he expected it to pop right out of ribs. But Sophia was there with him. He wouldn’t change a thing.

The walk back to their house was slow and leisurely. They didn’t talk much, just walked.

They stopped on their porch, standing there in awkward silence. Ethan wasn’t sure what to say. Should he talk about Eleanor? That was what had finally brought them together. But if that was all they had to talk about, where could their relationship even go?

“I can’t wait to hear if the Bartletts’ aunt Ellie is the Eleanor from our letter,” Sophia said.

“That’d be cool.” That’d be cool? What is this, high school? I’m being a complete idiot.

Sophia leaned against her door. Did that mean she was anxious to go inside? Or wanted to hang out on the porch longer? Ethan never had been good at figuring those things out. “I wonder if Ellie is still alive,” Sophia said. “She’s probably Mrs. Garcia’s age.”

“Probably.”

Sophia brushed a stray ebony hair out of her face. The gesture was mesmerizing. Either he was totally gone on her or... No. He was totally gone on her. That’s what it was.

“So... uh...” What could he say? Sometimes they talked about work, but he’d had the day off. “Maybe you could come over tomorrow night. I’ll cook.”

“Frozen pot pies?” Sophia’s smile got to him every time.

“Nah,” he said. “I have the day off. I’ll actually cook this time.”

“You really do know how to cook?” Obviously she doubted it.

Ethan leaned his shoulder against the wall near her, close enough for a conversation but with enough distance that she wouldn’t panic if he was interpreting this whole thing differently than she was.

“My brother and sister and I all had to learn to cook growing up,” Ethan said. “It wasn’t optional.”

“That’s smart. Your parents didn’t have to cook every night.” She turned so she was facing him more directly. “And now it makes you popular with your neighbors.”

“With all my neighbors?” Worst pick-up line ever.

Sophia shrugged. “Probably not with Mrs. Garcia or her daughter. They can out cook anyone.”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” Ethan said.

She brushed at that same stray hair, which made Ethan wonder if doing so was some kind of signal he didn’t know about.

“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Sophia said.

Disappointment settled like a weight in his chest. He wasn’t the smoothest guy, but he was making some progress.

If she went inside this soon, he’d never get past the standing-near-her-on-the-porch stage to any of the other stages that came next.

He’d had his arm around her at Mrs. Garcia’s house, but she hadn’t held his hand on the way home, hadn’t lingered very close by when they got home.

“Yeah.” He did his best to act like it was no big deal. “See you after work tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

She slipped inside, closing the door behind her. Ethan stayed on the porch, telling himself he was an idiot. Either she wasn’t interested and he was chasing after her pointlessly, or she was interested, and he just blew it.